


Big Brother watching

by Caoilainn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 5+1 Things, Big Brother Mycroft, Gen, Implied Sherlock with Aspergers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mycroft's Meddling, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Ultimate Big Brother, non-linear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:39:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caoilainn/pseuds/Caoilainn
Summary: 5 opinions on the ultimate big brother and (+1) Mycroft’s own thoughts.Everyone agrees that Mycroft has a lot of power and that he’s Big Brother personified. But is that a good thing or a bad thing?





	1. Greg Lestrade

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore the way Mycroft’s character, and his somewhat obsessive focus on Sherlock, could be seen and interpreted in different ways by different characters.

It was a little over six months after he first came into contact with Sherlock Holmes that Greg met Mycroft Holmes. It was a cold and damp night when the call had come in that a body, a middle-aged man shot once in each of his limbs as well as in the heart and in the head, had been found in an alley in Southwark. Greg had no idea how Sherlock did it but he had managed to find them without being notified. It quickly became obvious that Sherlock had shown up high, for the third time in as many weeks, despite Greg having told him that he wasn’t welcome to a crime scene when he was in that state. Sherlock was, thankfully, sober most of the time when he consulted with Greg but his drug use was spiralling out of control. Not that Sherlock himself seemed to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

 

Greg liked Sherlock, for some mysterious reason, unlike the rest of his crew. Sure, the younger man certainly came off as abrasive but his deductions were spot on. Greg knew that since he had annoyed Sherlock more than usual a few times and had been deduced in revenge, though it wasn’t much of a revenge since Greg didn’t take offence. Some of Sherlock’s odd behaviour reminded Greg of his cousin’s son, a 17-year-old boy with Aspergers syndrome, which might be why he felt more comfortable with Sherlock than the others on his team did. And as a bonus he had come into contact with a lot of junkies during his time in the police. He knew a thing or two about how to handle them.

 

He didn’t mind the help the young man could provide since it eased up the workload and the criminals where caught faster. Greg had no need to be the one to crack every case and “get the glory”, that was not why he had become a DI. However, he couldn’t take the risk of a case being compromised if it became known that they had accepted advice from a drugged-up cocaine user. Unfortunately Sherlock’s situation had seemed to gradually worsen these last few weeks, his hygiene had suffered and he had become noticeably thinner. It was obvious that he was living on the streets but he was unwilling to accept help and Greg was at his wits end.

 

Then, as Greg once more tried to send Sherlock away from the crime scene, a shiny black car slowed down and came to a stop a few feet away. After a couple of seconds the car door opened and a well-dressed man climbed out. It was very strange to see the expensive car and the man dressed in a three-piece suit, with a brolly and a calm look on his face, in this run-down part of town and late at night. Both Greg and Sherlock had stopped arguing to look at the new arrival but while Greg’s face only showed the confusion he felt, Sherlock’s turned dark with anger. It was an anger much more intense than the one he had shown when he got turned away from a crime scene or was aggravated by members of the forensic team.

 

“Get the bloody hell away from me!” Sherlock shouted at the man. It seemed to Greg like they knew each other since the other man just watched with an exasperated look on his face.

 

“Sherlock, really? That is hardly a proper way to speak” The man responded.

 

“You think I care? I don’t care about your proper ways and your power plays. I don’t want to see you so get THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” the last part was screamed at the man. Sherlock’s yelling had gotten the attention of Greg’s team and some of them threw a quick look in Greg’s direction to try and see what was happening. Then they, more or less simultaneously, seemed reach the conclusion that it was better to keep their heads down and not get involved.

 

“This has gone on long enough!” The man had looked less calm as he glared at Sherlock. “You have lost control of your drug addiction and if you don’t get clean soon you might very well die! I’m not above having you forced to a clinic if it will save your life!”

 

Greg wasn’t sure if he should intervene but by now both men seemed to have forgotten about his presence.

 

“You’re such a fucking dictator Mycroft! You have no right to control me just because you control pretty much all of-“

 

“Sherlock!” Mycroft interrupted sternly.

 

“What?!” Sherlock snarled back, though he seemed to have lost his previous train of thought as he continued “I am. Not. An. Addict! I’ve told you this a thousand times! I’m a user, I control what I take and not the other way around. It helps me think!”

 

“Are you really not intelligent enough to be able to think without it?” Mycroft asked drily.

 

That seemed to be the last straw for Sherlock as he quickly approached Mycroft and gave the other man a violent push. The force of it made Mycroft fall back against the car and hit his head hard on the doorframe. No less than a second later a burly young man, a body guard Greg guessed, appeared from the driver’s seat. Sherlock hadn’t noticed any of this as he stormed off and disappeared into the maze of back alleys and side streets that surrounded the corner where they were standing.

 

Mycroft gestured to the young man who had stepped out of the car to not try and follow Sherlock. Greg watched quietly as Mycroft gingerly felt at the back of his head while wearing a downtrodden look on his face. Then he seemed to suddenly realise that Greg was present and in less than a second his face transformed to a blank mask.

 

“Detective Inspector Lestrade I presume?” He asked, and as Greg nodded he continued “I do apologise for my brother’s appalling behaviour”.

 

Stunned Greg just stared at him for a moment. Brother? The man hardly resembled Sherlock. They had different bone structure and while Sherlock had dark curly hair this man’s hair was more straight and in an auburn colour. As Mycroft came closer though Greg could see the same intense and calculating look in his eyes as Sherlock had.

 

“I’m sorry, brother? You’re Sherlock’s brother” Greg asked, only to realise how stupid the question was after he had voiced it.

 

“Regrettably yes” Mycroft said with a humourless smile.  “I take it that you are familiar with his unfortunate drug habit?”

 

“Well yes, bu-”

 

“And yet you have...consulted with him on several occasions by now. Despite knowing that he uses illegal substances?” Mycroft had continued. He was no doubt aware of the fact that he was putting Greg in a tight spot since the DI had made no move to arrest the obviously drugged-up Sherlock.

 

“Yes I know of his habit, you’d had to be blind to miss it, but he’s a good kid. Yes, I’ve been forced to arrest him a couple of times. That was actually how we met, but I think that if he just got a chance, the right help and was properly motivated then he could have a chance at getting clean and staying that way.” Greg told the other man, though the look he got in response clearly told him that he was being thought of as a gullible idiot.

 

“I am fully aware of Sherlock’s arrest record as I am the one who has to sort out his messes, but I doubt you know my little brother very well. He has in fact been to the best rehabilitation facilities I could get him into, three times so far, and every time he falls back into addiction shortly after leaving. Not that he even stays put at the clinics all that long before absconding. I do not want to have to force him there again but by now I don’t think I have any other choice. Not if he is to stay alive and unharmed by the poison he so happily injects into his veins.”

 

Despite Mycroft’s hard words and the rigid look on his face, Greg could see the miniscule cracks in the façade. He wasn’t a DI for nothing and it was apparent to him that this man loved his brother. Mycroft was losing hope of Sherlock surviving much longer if he kept living the way he did.

 

“Look, I admit that I don’t know Sherlock all that well but from what I’ve gathered from working with him he has an amazing intellect and he truly enjoys, maybe even loves, using that to figure out the why and how of the crimes I investigate. And I’m glad to have him. Maybe, if you get him to cooperate at least somewhat, you can use that as a motivator? I won’t allow him on my crime scenes when he’s high, he knows that, and soon enough word will reach my bosses about him. If they find out that I have a…junkie, consulting on our homicide investigations then I might very well lose my job, and Sherlock would lose his access to crime scenes.”

 

At first Mycroft had only looked politely interested in what Greg had to say but the DI felt like the other man started to become interested for real as he went on, though it was expertly hidden.

 

“Well, Detective Inspector, you have given me some food for thought. We will without a doubt meet again, though we’ll have to see under what kind of circumstances. Now if you excuse me I have a brother to find.”

 

Giving Greg a polite nod Mycroft, and the body guard, got into the car which then slowly pulled away from the curb where it had parked.

 

Greg could only shake his head. Those brothers were something else…

 

 

Years later he learned that Mycroft had taken Sherlock to the rehab by force in the end but it had worked that time around. Sherlock kept complaining about Mycroft’s overbearing tendencies and his need to control his younger brother’s life but Greg could sympathise with the elder brother. He didn’t doubt that Mycroft’s behaviour came from a love for his little brother as well as a deep-seated fear, born from the years of watching Sherlock slowly destroy himself, of losing said brother. Mycroft wasn’t so different from most protective big brothers out there.

 


	2. Mrs.Hudson

Mrs. Hudson wasn’t all that fond of her renter’s older brother. She had first met him the week after Sherlock and Dr. Watson had moved into 221B. She had heard the boys leave and within half an hour there had been a knock on the front door. Opening it Mrs. Hudson saw a neat looking man waitingon her doorstep. He was probably in his late thirties and wore a lovely three-piece suit. _Dressed as a proper gentleman_ Mrs. Hudson thought.

 

The polite smile on his face however clashed badly with the piercing and calculating look in his eyes, it felt like he was mentally picking her apart just to learn what is was that made her tick. It reminded her of Sherlock and therefor she wasn’t overly surprised when the man introduced himself as Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft Holmes.

 

“If you’re looking for Sherlock you just missed hi-“ She began, before being interrupted.

 

“I am not. I do not want to infringe unduly on your time Mrs. Hudson, but I would like to speak to you as you are Sherlock’s current landlady” Sherlock’s brother said.

 

“No bother at all Mr. Holmes” she replied with a bland smile. As she led him inside she recalled the circumstances of how she had got to know Sherlock in the first place.

 

Mrs. Hudson had met Sherlock way back when she had lived in the United States with her husband. One day she had come across the young man who had found himself stranded in a suburb of Miami. When she learnt that he was a fellow Brit Mrs. Hudson had invited him to stay at her house for a little while. In hindsight it was probably one of the best decisions she had ever made. _Lord!_ Mrs. Hudson thought, mentally shaking her head in remembrance. _I might have ended up as one more victim of my husband’s! With those types it’s always the mother or the wife that they really wanted to kill._

 

Thankfully Sherlock had realised that Mr. Hudson was in fact a serial killer and he had found enough evidence that the Miami PD had taken him seriously when he reported his findings, though the fancy suit and crisp accent might have helped too. Mrs. Hudson had known that her husband was no angel, but murder? That was absolutely where she had to draw the line! She had been forced to come to terms with the fact that maybe she just wasn’t a very good judge of character, but at least she wasn’t wrong about Sherlock.

 

When the young man had approached her just before the trial though she knew that he had proven himself to be a truly good person. He might have been high on drugs now and again, not to mention his other eccentricities, but Mrs. Hudson firmly believed in a ‘Live and let live’ philosophy. She had told him that she would probably return to London now that her husband was on death row and that she owned a house with several flats that she had planned to rent out. He gave her his number and when Mrs. Hudson had settled down in 221A Baker Street she reached out to him.

 

Mrs. Hudson remembered that when they had met the first time around Sherlock had grumbled about his big brother, and Mrs. Hudson had gotten the feeling that the trip to the states was almost a vacation from what sounded like his brother’s autocratic way of trying to run the younger man’s life. And now said autocrat was entering her kitchen.

  

Regardless of what Sherlock had let slip about his brother however Mrs. Hudson had now, after the unfortunate events concerning Mr. Hudson, sworn to never turn away a source of information regarding the people she shared a house with. She did not need any more serial killers in her life, thank you very much!

 

With this in mind she invited Mr. Holmes into her flat and served them both tea in the sitting room.

 

“I can’t say that I’m usually approached by family members of my renter’s. Now why is it that you wanted to speak to me?” She asked, once they had sat down and each had a cup of tea.

 

“Sherlock is not your usual renter Mrs. Hudson. My aim is not to have you cast him to the curb but there are things I would like for you to know about my dear brother.” Seeing Mrs. Hudson nod he continued. “My brother has a brilliant mind and are very gifted in many ways. I have tried to guide him to a place in life where he can make use of his full potential but my brother is also a very mercurial person and has always delighted in doing the exact opposite of what I have suggested, regardless of what that may be.” Mr. Holmes said, obviously vexed. His tone and expression, as well as knowing personally a bit about how Sherlock could act, made Mrs. Hudson hide her smile behind her teacup.

 

“If you don’t mind me saying so that sound much like the relationship between my own brothers” Mrs. Hudson said.

 

“Yes, but I do hope that your brothers have not fought the same demons that Sherlock has” Mr. Holmes replied. “My brother has always had a way about him that separated him from those around him, even me though we both share an above average intellect. He has had peculiar behaviour issues and because of that he has spent time at various hospita-“

“Mr. Holmes. I really don’t think this is appropriate.” Mrs. Hudson interrupted, feeling very uncomfortable. On one hand she did want to be informed about who lived in her house but on the other hand she already knew Sherlock and this felt like an invasion of his privacy.

 

“But that is not the main reason for my wish to speak to you” Mr. Holmes continued, as if his monologue hadn’t been cut short.

 

“Alright. Go on” she allowed.

 

“The core of the issue is that Sherlock has fought a battle against drugs for several years now. I am honestly not sure when he started, it was before I had the pow-…possibility to keep a closer eye on him. Despite several forced trips to rehabilitation centres he has yet to stay clean for longer than a few months after being released. We are hopeful that things will have changed for the better, as there are several factors that makes his situation different this time. What I would like from you is to keep a discreet eye on my little brother. Occasionally allow my agents access to 221B, keeping me informed of Sherlock’s sobriety and things of that nature. I will of course reimburse you for your assistance” Mr. Holmes seemed to turn up the intensity of his smile a notch.

 

Mrs. Hudson sat back in her chair and sipped from her tea cup as she thought about his words. That Sherlock battled addiction obviously wasn’t news to her, sad as that may be, but it had now become clear to her why he felt that his older brother tried to run his life. Mr. Holmes certainly seemed like he had, or at least felt he had, enough power to force his brother’s hand ‘for his own good’.

 

Maybe there was a way she could compromise on what she was willing to do, or maybe give Sherlock a discreet heads up, and still get the money. Not that she was a greedy woman! She just had a feeling that Sherlock could be a somewhat destructive renter.

 

“You will have to give me some time to think this through Mr. Holmes” She finally said.

 

“Of course. Can I expect to hear from you say, tomorrow afternoon?” He asked, finishing his tea and standing up.

 

“Yes, that would be good” she answered and got up in order to walk with him to the front door.

 

Standing in the doorway and watching as he entered the backseat of a sleek black car across the street Mrs. Hudson thought about the mixed feelings she had regarding Mr. Mycroft Holmes.

 

On one hand it was obvious that he cared for his brother, and lord knows that Sherlock could give a person a lot to worry about, but at the same time the subtle threat of power he seemed to exude was very unsettling. She wondered if he ever thought about how the road to hell are paved with good intention. Mycroft Holmes she felt was decidedly not a ‘Live and let live’ kind of person.

 

Well, she would have to think about this meeting with the elder Holmes, as well as speak to Sherlock and Dr. Watson. Perhaps they could work something out together and then split the money…


	3. Anthea

Anthea’s estimation and respect for her boss had only risen the longer she worked for him. Mycroft Holmes was relentlessly organised, informed and meticulous. He had the intellect of a genius and the ability to manoeuvre information and people as needed for the good of the country. He was a demanding man to work for but she enjoyed the trust and the power she had as his PA.

 

Mr. Holmes had her loyalty and so she accepted that the task of organising surveillance and information gathering on her boss’s younger brother was one of her duties. As was the occasional retrieval of Dr. Watson and that was in fact what she was doing right now.

 

It was a very boring assignment and she kept her eyes glued to her phone but used the time to think freely. Thankfully Watson had finally stopped making awkward attempts at conversation, leaving them to ride in silence.

 

When Anthea first started working for Mr. Holmes she hadn’t felt all that comfortable with invading someone’s privacy the way Mr. Holmes did in the matter of his brother but it wasn’t her place to question his decisions and she had soon grown used to it. The dossier on Sherlock Holmes that she had initially been given revealed a multitude of hospital visits as well as a number of drugs rehabs that Sherlock had been sent to, against his will. Apparently he had also been arrested several times, for different offences, but that had dealt with by Mr. Holmes and the charges had been dismissed. In short, Mr. Holmes’s brother seemed to be a true menace!

 

That image was further reinforced by the snippets she heard here and there from the personnel who did the actual groundwork. Apparently Sherlock made a sport of slipping away from them or loudly and publicly deduce their most embarrassing and secret thoughts and actions. To be assigned as a tail for their boss’s younger brother was nothing short of a punishment to be avoided at all cost. Not that anyone would dream of doing anything short of their very best when it came to an order from Mr. Holmes, especially in regards to his little brother.

 

When Anthea finally met Sherlock Holmes in person she found him unpleasant. A hostile, angry, disrespectful and spiteful young man who spat vitriolic words at Mr. Holmes, and at her as well though not nearly as much or as viciously. Over the years she had had a hard time deciding if he was more unpleasant when he was high or when he was sober, but the difference seemed to be minimal.

 

That Mr. Holmes hadn’t just given up on his brother, what with the way he was treated by the younger man, was a mystery. She could see how his methods of keeping Sherlock safe could be regarded as overbearing in the extreme but it was truly for no other reason than to keep Sherlock safe. From himself as well as from those of Mr. Holmes’s enemies who saw the young man as a way of gaining leverage or getting revenge on Mr. Holmes himself. Several such attempts had been handled over the years though that was never something that Sherlock seemed to feel grateful for, and if he truly was as smart as Mr. Holmes claimed then he would have known about at least some of them.

 

Mycroft Holmes may be Big Brother personified but Anthea had no doubt in her mind that what he did was for the best of all involved, no matter what those actions were.

 

Feeling the car slow down she looked out the window and saw that they had reached their destination. It was the abandoned warehouse that Mr. Holmes for some reason liked to meet Dr. Watson in. Good, one step closer to the end of this little assignment and then, with any luck, she wouldn’t have to see Sherlock or his follower in person again for some time. At least she really hoped so!


	4. John

John Watson did not like Mycroft Holmes! Not one bit.

 

John still felt as if he hadn’t quite gotten over that first meeting with Sherlock’s brother. Who on earth thinks that the proper way to meet your younger sibling’s new friend/potential flatmate is by kidnapping them and taking them to an abandoned warehouse? And then keep up with the kidnapping ever so often? Stupid question; a Holmes that’s who! 

 

Right now John was sitting in his chair in the living room of 221B watching the Holmes brothers arguing once again. Probably over something they had covered a hundred times before. At least neither of them was looking for John’s input and it left him free to consider Mycroft.

 

Mycroft’s visits to 221B did nothing to endear him to John. Often when the brothers met the tension in the air seemed so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Mycroft’s snide remarks, overbearing ways and patronising smiles just made Sherlock more and more irritated and angry. And then Mycroft would leave and John would be left with a spitting mad Sherlock.

 

_Mycroft is the unmovable object to Sherlock’s unstoppable force_ John thought. _Forever locked in battle. Both think they are the smartest one and both refuse to consider the fact that they might ever be wrong. Neither possess the ability to really understand that what is right for one brother isn’t necessarily right for the other. For all his political charm Mycroft, like Sherlock, definitely has limited emphatic skills, though he has a better understanding of social situations and norms. And how to manipulate them_.

 

As the months passed and John stayed by Sherlock’s side it dawned more and more on John just how much power Mycroft was in possession of and was able to use in just about any way possible. Sherlock may be out of touch with how the ‘normal’ world worked, outside of criminal behaviour, but John was uncomfortably reminded of totalitarian regimes when he thought about Mycroft’s modus operandi. John certainly felt that Sherlock deserved to be treated better, and he didn't think that thought was based only on the fact that his feelings for Sherlock had begun to grow and change.

 

John knew Sherlock had been in drug rehab against his will several times, it had slipped out during one of Sherlock’s angry tirades after a meeting between the brothers. As a doctor John could understand the need for an action like that, even though it hurt to hear about a man as fantastic as Sherlock in circumstances like those. But the surveillance? He had thought Sherlock was paranoid at first and had helped him search for listening devices and such just to humour him. It had felt unreal to actually find some, hidden among the many knickknacks in their flat. And they kept finding new ones regularly! The same thing with the people Mycroft assigned to follow them around. Sherlock had of course argued with Mycroft about it but John got the feeling that it was more of a game between the two of them. A rousing game of ‘Can You Spot the Surveillance?’.

 

If John had to be honest there had been occasions when it had been very useful to have someone with Mycroft’s power backing them up but John didn’t know if he thought it was worth the rest of the elder Holmes’s obsessive behaviour when it came to his younger brother. John could only imagine how difficult it must be for Sherlock to put up with Mycroft’s creepy and obsessive ways.

 

_Thank god Harry doesn't act like that! Although, she would have to be sober in order to manage it… so maybe it would be a good thing…?_ John pondered. Unfortunately, that train of thought got him thinking about Mycroft and a sober Harry working together, and wouldn’t that be a match made in hell! John shuddered at the thought, which made both brothers frown at him before going back to their ‘discussion’.

 

_This evening’s little match of wits will probably end the same way as usual_ , John thought as he made his way to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of tea. After Mycroft left Sherlock would be indignant. He would throw himself on the sofa, saw on his poor violin or give seemingly endless monologues on the utter pain of having an older brother… Or he would leave the flat in a fury and hopefully walk off his temper.

 

_Yes, exactly like that._ John thought, listening to Sherlock stomp down the stairs and slam the door as he left.

 

“My brother really is hopelessly dramatic” the elder Holmes sighed and turned his head to look at John who once more sat down in his chair, a cup of tea in his hand, and picked up a book.

 

“Well Mycroft, you probably hate repetitions as much as your brother does but it has to be said… thank God you’re above all that” John couldn’t help but smile for real as he looked over at Mycroft and actually caught him rolling his eyes. Sherlock must have annoyed him more than usual this evening to have the always so proper Mycroft reach this point.

 

“Quite” That was the only answer he received as Mycroft rose from his, or rather Sherlock’s chair, and straightened his cuffs and suit jacket.

 

“He could do so much more for Queen and country if he stopped being to obstinate and just came to work for me” Mycroft apparently couldn’t help but comment.

 

_And it would be so much easier for you to control him then_ John thought, but only said “I don’t think that is ever going to happen”

 

“Ah well, hope springs forth eternal. Isn’t that what they say?” The elder Holmes replied, already halfway out the door.

 

“Sure, keep your fingers crossed” John called after him, chuckling as he heard a muttered “How pedestrian” from the man now on his way down the stairs.

 

As he heard the front door slam shut John sighed with relief. Now he could finally have a moment of peace in the absence of both Holmes brothers.


	5. Sherlock

Having stormed out on his brother and John, Sherlock relished the feeling of being outside in the cold autumn air. He started walking the usual route he used for calming down after meetings with Mycroft. His ire didn’t last long and soon he was simply enjoying the feeling of solitude and the silence of the park late at night. First his mind wandered to John, as it often did nowadays. John was special and he made Sherlock want more…though he was slightly uncertain as to what that really meant. Sherlock knew that John was attracted to him, despite the older man’s mantra of ‘not gay’. They were dancing around each other right now, neither comfortable to be the one to take that first step. But that wasn’t what he wanted to think about right now.

 

Sherlock knew that John was the kind of man who preferred his government to be transparent and therefore was uncomfortable by the mere existence of a role such as Mycroft’s. Someone who could have you removed, locked up or killed with one simple decision, without facing any judicial repercussions from it. His older brother’s apparent lack of empathy didn’t help either. For about a week after the first time they got rid of all of Mycroft’s surveillance equipment John had been noticeably more edgy and alert. Almost as if he expected Mycroft to swoop down on them for some perceived mistake and have them locked up or worse. Sherlock had tried to tell him that there was no reason to worry about something like that happening and maybe John had taken him on his word and calmed down, or he just got used to the situation like he had gotten used to being beleaguered in Afghanistan.

 

Sherlock could admit to having contradictory feeling about his brother. On one hand Sherlock still retained some childhood feelings of safety and connection associated with him. Mycroft had been the one who understood him the best, who had taught him so many things about science, human behaviour and social interaction. Or rather, he had tried to explain social interaction but Sherlock had never quite got the hang of it. When Sherlock was young Mycroft would listen to his thoughts, to explanations of his experiments and answer the millions of questions that he had. At least it had been that way until Mycroft seemed to deem a teenaged Sherlock old enough to stand on his own and thus had expected Sherlock to act like the adult he soon would be, at least in years. That’s when things had begun to go downhill.

 

On the other hand, Sherlock couldn’t forgive or forget the helpless fury he had felt so many times when Mycroft had shunted him off to hospitals and rehabs as well as when his older brother had tried in all possible ways to control him and change him into something more palatable. In his usual fashion Sherlock’s instinctive response to that had been to push back and to act the complete opposite of how Mycroft wanted him to.

 

Now in his thirties Sherlock could privately agree that the way he had fought for independence had been self-destructive. He also knew that they would never completely overcome the distance that had grown between them. At this point in life however they had both, in their own wordless way, admitted to wrongdoings towards the other. Now they had mostly settled into a relationship of brotherly bickering, with couple of occasions when tempers had really risen.

 

Deciding to stop walking for a moment Sherlock sat down on a park bench. There wasn’t much to look at since the park was virtually empty. In the distance though Sherlock could spot a lone figure walking their dog and over by one of the entrances a couple was exiting the park. The place looked barren since autumn had killed the vegetation and the trees had lost all their leaves. It was really too cold to sit outside like this but he just wanted a moment or two to try and sort out his feelings

 

Mycroft and Sherlock understood each other, for better or for worse, and in the innermost secret rooms of his Mind Palace Sherlock was aware that if it wasn’t for Mycroft’s actions in the past he would definitely be dead by now. At the time it had been nothing but a curse, to always have the ultimate Big Brother looking over your shoulder, but he truly enjoyed his life right now so having been kept alive through those dark years didn’t rankle like it once had. Had he died back then he never would have met John. Not that he would ever tell Mycroft that. The man’s ego was already nearly stratospheric.

 

Sherlock knew that John thought he understood how Sherlock felt about Mycroft constantly keeping an eye on his little brother’s life but how could he? John would never understand the complex relationship between the two brothers. Sherlock had grown up with Mycroft’s watchful presence and could hardly imagine anything else, even though it had chafed at times and he had tried to break free from it. In truth, if Mycroft stopped keeping an eye on him and stopped getting involved it would probably hurt. Neither man had a well of emotions to draw from but they weren’t completely emotionless. This was Mycroft’s way of showing that he cared for Sherlock, despite his opinion on how caring was no advantage. The fact that Sherlock allowed it, up to a point, was a way for the two of them to comfortably connect.

 

Since Mycroft had always refused to stay out of his little brother’s life they had both been through hell more or less together. They had familiarised themselves with each other’s limits as well as made compromises. Mycroft was allowed to stay in the background of Sherlock’s life, occasionally stepping forth when either he or Sherlock wanted or needed something from the other. In exchange Sherlock was allowed to live his life the way he wanted to but with the knowledge that Mycroft would take measures if something threatened Sherlock’s life or health, even if that threat came from Sherlock himself.

 

They both still tested each other’s boundaries but it had become more like a game to them, a comfortable way to interact. In the end Mycroft was the one who came closest to understanding what it was like living with a brain like Sherlock’s and vis-à-vis. Sherlock already knew he would be lost without his blogger…but he had a suspicion that he would be equally lost without his archenemy.

 


	6. +1 Mycroft

After stepping into the foyer of his home, closing the door and setting the alarm Mycroft could finally relax. It had been a long day made even longer as he had decided to visit Sherlock directly after work. No one challenged him like his little brother. Sometimes Mycroft thought that if there were such things as reincarnation and karma then he must have done something truly monstrous in a previous life to have been saddled with a younger brother like Sherlock.

 

As a child Sherlock had been like the kittens Mycroft remember his aunt having when he visited the summer before Sherlock was born, or it would be more accurate to say that his little brother behaved like a kitten. Sherlock got into absolutely everything, was insatiably curious, adventurous and had been fiercely determined to go his own way and do his own thing. Their parents had often needed Mycroft’s help in looking after the boy as none of them possessed the boundless energy that Sherlock seemed to have.

 

Unfortunately those were all characteristics that Sherlock had grown into rather than of out of, as he behaved exactly the same way as an adult. Likewise Mycroft had grown into the need of always keeping an eye on his little brother. It hadn’t made for an easy life growing up, that’s for sure. They had been close, once upon a time when they were both much younger, but time changes many things and it turned out that had they possessed very different personalities.

 

Entering the library with its gleaming dark wooded furniture, hundreds of books as well as a well-stocked liquor cabinet Mycroft poured himself some Scotch Whiskey and then finally sank down into one of the plush armchairs. Watching the golden colour of the liquid inside the tumbler he thought about how Sherlock had changed throughout the years.

 

Mycroft had known the happy child and the sullen teenaged, and he had watched that boy grow into an obstinate adult. He had spent time with Sherlock while his brother was high on all manner of drugs, drunk, coming down, detoxing, plagued with cravings or sober. He knew his brother better than anyone and yet Mycroft had made grave miscalculations on a number of occasions, which had pushed them further and further apart.  That bothered him but it wasn’t something he would ever admit out loud. Only alone in the quiet comfort of his own home Mycroft allowed himself the luxury to wallow.  

 

Mycroft had always felt that their parents didn’t take Sherlock’s safety as seriously as they should have. He could freely admit now that that feeling was partly sprung from them having failed to keep Mycroft safe from bullies during his years at school. He had sworn to himself when Sherlock was born that he would be more protective of his brother than their parents had been of him. When Sherlock’s behaviour had started to set him apart from his peers and he had started getting bullied Mycroft had been the one to handle the boys bulling Sherlock. He had been the one Sherlock came to for safety, help and protection. Sherlock’s opinion on whether he needed that protection or not may have changed as he grew up but Mycroft’s hadn’t.

 

He had nearly lost Sherlock so many times that he may have become slightly neurotic about the safety of his little brother. Mycroft had found Sherlock in back alleys, doss houses, police custody, homeless shelters and on one memorable occasion in the middle of a pub brawl.  He had even been to the morgue once or twice when he had been called to identify a body believed to be Sherlock’s. Mycroft knew more about class A narcotics and the twilight underworld of London than he could ever have imagined, or ever wanted, to know a scant decade and a half ago.

 

But you do everything in your power to save the ones you love, don’t you? Anyone who had been through those kinds of experiences that he and Sherlock had would agree. Well, he just had more power than most and he was not letting go of his brother. Come what may.

 


End file.
